


Christmas Spirit

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-26
Updated: 2004-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brian learns Gus is in a Christmas pageant, he finds himself getting sucked into the spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Spirit

The diner was overly warm after the bitter cold of December Pittsburgh air. Brian unwound his scarf the moment he was inside with the door safely shut behind him, and he breathed in the familiar grease and salt smell that had come to be almost comforting to him. It was cloying and stuck to cargo pants through three washings - something he knew because he’d overheard Justin bitching at the cleaners on the phone one day - but it made him think of Deb and breakfasts with the boys at the counter, and taking Justin home after his late night shifts and fucking him senseless. Good memories.

Lindsay was the first to look up from her plate of blueberry pancakes, and her face lit up, smile stretching her cheeks and narrowing her eyes, a laugh escaping before she spoke. “Brian!” she cried, and the other heads around the table snapped up, all eyes on him. “You’re back!”

He couldn’t suppress a grin as she straightened up from the vinyl seat, letting Gus loose from where he’d been seated next to her.

“Daddy!” he cried, coming at him full tilt and barreling right into Brian’s knees.

“Whoa, there, sonny boy. You’re going to knock your old man over.” Brian bent down to pry Gus’s arms from his legs and lifted him up with a grunt. 

“Losing your balance in your old age?” Lindsay cracked, winking and giggling and coming up to peck him on the cheek.

Brian smirked and shifted Gus on his hip to give her shoulders a squeeze. 

“Come on Gus, let your father go so he can sit down.” She reached out and took Gus from Brian, setting him on the floor so he could climb up onto the seat by himself.

Brian followed her back to the booth, shouldering out of his wool coat and sliding in next to Michael, who smiled widely up at him.

“So how was your trip?” Ben asked, leaning forward from beside Michael, one elbow propped up on the table. 

“Good. A hell of a lot warmer than the Pitts.”

“Brian,” Lindsay admonished, nodding her head towards Gus.

“Sorry, a heck of a lot warmer than the Pitts.” 

“Well, you were in California,” Michael said, cutting pieces of sausage and transferring some of them to Gus’s plate. Gus picked them up with his fingers and dunked them in the pool of maple syrup he’d flooded his pancakes with.

“Where it was seventy-five degrees and sunny,” Brian lamented, reaching out to snag a sausage bit. Gus wrinkled his nose and Brian stuck out his tongue at him.

“Brian,” Lindsay said again, but there was laughter in her eyes.

“Hey, kiddo, when did you blow in?” Deb came up to the table, pad and pen in hand, the cinnamon smell of her gum preceding her kiss on his temple. She wiped away her lipstick marks, an action that one came to expect after years and years of kisses, and grinned down at him.

“Just a minute ago.”

“Well, what can I get you?”

Brian ordered coffee and a doughnut and filled everyone in on some of the finer points of his trip - how the business meetings had gone, how fabulous room service was at the hotel, how hot his bellhop had been - until the plates were cleared and the coffee was mostly gone.

“Boy, I should be getting over to the Center,” Lindsay said, glancing down at her watch. “Come on Gus, let’s get your coat on.”

“What’s going on at the Center?” Brian asked, trailing a finger around the rim of his mug.

Lindsay paused in zipping up Gus’s jacket, and exchanged a glance with Michael, who immediately starting chuckling. 

“Lindsay,” Brian said, a note of warning in his voice.

“Um, well … “ she hedged, helping Gus pull his mittens on. 

“Um, well,” Brian prodded, waving his hand in the air.

“The Center is planning a Christmas pageant,” Ben said. Michael pulled the crew neck of his sweater up over his mouth, trying to smother what was now out-and-out laughter.

Brian shook his head, shrugging. “So?”

“So Gus is going to be in it.” Ben cut his eyes to Lindsay, who wasn’t looking up from the obviously difficult task of folding the bottom of Gus’s knit hat just right over his brows.

Brian shrugged again. “So? He’s going to wear a pointy hat and sing about Rudolph? You’re all acting like this is some big deal.” Michael gave a snort from inside his sweater and Brian glared down at him. “And what is so fucking funny?”

“Brian!” Lindsay cried, covering Gus’s ears.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said, putting a hand up, palm out. “Can someone please tell me what exactly is going on? Why won’t you look at me?” He stared down at Lindsay’s reddening cheeks and then turned his eyes to Michael. “And why are you going into hysterics?”

Michael coughed a little and lowered his sweater. “Part of the pageant is a live nativity scene.”

Brian’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. 

“And Gus is going to be a wise man.” Michael’s mouth quivered a little and he slid the neckline of his sweater upwards again. 

Brian looked from Ben’s slow nodding to Lindsay’s doe-in-headlight’s look to Michael’s shaking shoulders. “Why is that such a big deal?”

Lindsay almost slumped over onto the yellowing linoleum, her breath coming out in a whoosh. Michael dropped his hands into his lap, his sweater sliding off his chin. Ben just smiled and sipped his water. 

“You’re not upset?” Lindsay squeaked, getting to her feet.

“Why would I be upset?” Brian looked around again, and then nodded. “Come on, give me a _little_ credit. Just because I think the whole thing is a drama worthy of a nighttime Emmy and just as laughable doesn’t mean I’m going to inflict those beliefs on Gus.” Brian shoved his mug away a little roughly, the cooling brown liquid almost sloshing over the rim. “I know too well what that’s like, to have your parent’s beliefs shoved in your face.” He leaned sideways out of the booth, putting his face close to Gus’s. “Are you excited about the pageant, sonny boy?”

Gus nodded, his eyes sparkling. “I get to have a camel and Frankenstein.”

Lindsay laughed, still sounding mildly shocked. “Frankincense,” she corrected. Then to Brian, “We’re still working on his lines.” She squinted at him, crossing her arms. “So you’re really okay with this?”

“Christ, Lindsay, it’s just a Christmas pageant. It’s not like he thinks he’s the second coming or something.”

Lindsay seemed to relax then, smiling in that way she had when Brian did something unexpectedly nice or fatherly, tilting her head and pulling in the corners of her mouth. She came forward and put an arm around Brian’s neck, pressing her lips to his cheek briefly before pulling away.

“Come on Gus, we’re going to be late. Say good-bye.”

Gus waved one brightly mittened hand at Ben and Michael, and tucked against Brian’s side for an awkward hug. “Love you,” he said, his voice muffled in the folds of Brian’s shirt.

“You too,” Brian replied, patting his son on the back. 

Lindsay said her good-byes and took Gus’s hand and then they left.

Brian stood and circled the table, sliding into the booth seat on the other side. He stretched an arm along the top of the booth and chewed on the toothpick he’d grabbed from the dispenser near the register. Michael was staring at him like he’d grown antennae while Ben was absorbed in his newspaper.

“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?”

Michael shook his head as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “I’m sorry, you just surprised me is all. I thought for sure you were going to throw a tantrum.”

“You were expecting me to queen out? Justin hasn’t rubbed off on me _that_ much.” 

Michael scoffed. “’Cause you weren’t a drama queen before?”

Brian just shrugged one shoulder and smirked. Ben folded his newspaper and started to tuck it into his old brown leather messenger bag. 

“When does Justin’s flight get in?” 

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Shame you guys couldn’t get return flights together,” Ben said, crossing his forearms on the tabletop.

“Yeah, well, Brett absolutely _needed_ Justin at some meeting tonight,” Brian drawled, rolling his eyes. Brian hadn’t liked Brett the moment he met him, but while the first movie was being made he’d come to tolerate his seemingly false enthusiasm and dopey voice. He treated Justin with respect and didn’t try to get in his pants at every turn, which were good points in Brian’s book, and even though he’d lengthened Justin’s time away from home for _Rage: The Sequel_ , he was understanding when Justin cut out of work early when Brian was in town visiting. He’d also helped Brian get a San Francisco office of Kinnetic established, doling out info on important contacts like they were bumps at one of his infamous parties, and didn’t lord it over Brian like anyone else would be well expected to. 

But he still didn’t really like the guy, and Brian wasn’t excited about flying first class next to some diva who’d just signed a record deal and was en route to New York to record her first album, who had flirted shamelessly with him despite his initial “I like cock” speech, and even had the balls to follow him to the bathroom once. Or the nerve, more like it, if she’d had balls Brian might have let her into the tiny stall after all.

Ben nudged Michael in the side, and Michael scooted over to stand, Ben following. “I’ve got a review session. Finals next week and all.” He kissed Michael and clapped Brian on the shoulder on his way past. “I’m glad you had a good trip, Brian.”

“Thanks.” 

Michael waved Ben off and sat back down. “So do you have to go into the office today, or do you get a day of rest?”

Brian rotated his left shoulder - it still ached when it was cold or rainy - and grimaced. “I’ve gotta go in. I’ve got to meet with a client and I have to fill Ted and Cynthia in on the happenings in California. Bring them up to date.”

Michael frowned. “Just take it easy. Stop by the shop later. We can get lunch or something.”

“I might be able to do that.”

Michael stood and swung his jacket around his shoulders, buttoning it up and winding his scarf around his neck. He leaned forward to give Brian a kiss. “Later.”

Brian smiled and nodded. “Later.” He watched him go, an unexpected rush of warmth going through him. He may have only been gone four days, but it was good to be home. Deb caught his eye from behind the counter and motioned at the lemon bars. He shook his head and took out his wallet, dropping a bill on the table and standing. A quick wave to Deb and he was back out into the frigid air. It was nice to be home, but it would be even nicer if it were forty degrees warmer.

*****

Justin arrived in town without mishap but with much fanfare, in the form of a huge dinner at Deb’s that Brian and Justin were late to due to a two-hour delay in LA and another hour delay at the loft. They arrived to knowing grins, their own smiles relaxed and Justin’s practically giddy. Deb was on cloud nine, ladling out carbonara sauce and alternating between pinching Justin’s cheeks and kissing Carl’s, whacking Michael on the head and Hunter on his, and pouring wine like it was water.

At the end of the meal everyone was warm and full, and lounging about in the living room while Deb was brewing coffee and slicing chocolate brownies. 

Justin was reliving the past month of his life and Brian watched him talk, gesturing animatedly, everyone’s eyes rapt on him. Brian leaned back against the couch cushions, sliding an arm around Justin’s waist. Justin didn’t miss a beat in his story, settling against Brian’s side.

Talk soon turned from LA to the GLC’s pageant, and Emmett took his turn story telling.

“The kids are adorable,” he said, his face bright. “When Lindsay first asked Darren and I to help I almost said no. I mean, this is one of the busiest times of the year for us, corporate parties left and right, but Darren really wanted to do something for the center since they were so great to him after the bashing.” Emmett paused to nod his head when Deb gestured at him with the coffee pot. “So we did a little schedule rearranging and I’m glad we did. It’s been an absolute blast so far, and we’ve only had three rehearsals,” he laughed.

“So why aren’t you there tonight?” Brian asked, sitting up to take the cup of coffee Deb offered him. Carl got to his feet and grabbed Deb by the shoulders, pushing gently to get her to sit. She didn’t protest - much - and Brian arched an eyebrow as she settled in, letting Carl serve the rest of the coffee and bring the tray of brownies in.

“They said they didn’t need me tonight,” Emmett shrugged. “They’re working on the more technical stuff, and let’s face it,” Emmett waved the hand that didn’t hold a mug. “Unless it needs batteries and has a vibrating head, I’m useless.” Even Carl laughed at that one, and Emmett shrugged. “So they dismissed me.”

Brian nodded, sipping his coffee. Justin leaned forward, his hair flopping in his eyes. Brian slid his hand up Justin’s back and rested it at the nape of his neck, the tips of his fingers brushing slowly through the longer hairs there, glad that Justin hadn’t gotten it cut like he’d sworn he was going to weeks earlier. As hot as the buzz cut had been, Brian much preferred it when he could run his fingers through Justin’s hair the way he was now.

Not to mention it gave him something to hold onto during sex.

“If you guys need any help, I’d be more than willing,” Justin was saying, his cheeks flushed from wine and heat. Brian felt a rush of blood straight to his groin.

“Oh, honey, that’d be great, I’ll talk to Lindsay. We could use your expert advice.” Emmett winked exaggeratedly and everyone laughed, including Justin.

*****

Brian sat in his car long enough for the windows to frost over before he even opened the door. He stepped out into the whirling snow, pulling the collar of his coat closer around his ears. He stood with the door open for a moment, contemplating getting back in and driving away, back to the warm loft. Or he could go get changed and head out to Babylon, get high and drunk and then go back to the warm loft to crash. Or fuck he could go to the diner and sit in the back booth and watch the people filter in and out, nursing a cup of coffee. Anything would be better than what he was about to do.

But Justin had pouted so prettily, and time had made Brian less resistant to his whining. Lindsay had called and begged, and even Emmett had turned on the charm, plying Brian with scotch and flattering words. So Brian squared his shoulders and marched through the light blanketing of snow to pull open the doors to the Gay and Lesbian Center.

He heard the off-key singing before he even swung around the corner into the large room that served as the GLC’s auditorium. 

“Okay, okay, stop there!” He heard Darren call, exhaustion underlying his kind tone. “We’ll go through the rest of the scene and then we’ll do the song again.”

Brian stopped just inside the doorway and felt a bit of panic when he saw the sheer number of children at the front of the room. He saw Gus amongst them, standing with two other boys, giggling about something, their small hands over their mouths. 

“Brian!”

Justin was in the corner, waving a large paintbrush. Brian skirted the room to stand at the edge of the splattered drop cloth.

“You came! I thought for sure you’d back out. I was waiting for my phone to ring. Not that I’d be able to get it,” Justin laughed, holding his paint-covered hands up for Brian to see.

“Well, I’m here,” Brian said, his eyes wide as he looked around again. Darren and Emmett were showing kids where to stand on the makeshift stage, yelling when a little girl ran too close to the edge, quieting the kids who were getting rowdy with each other. Brian tore his gaze away and fixed on Justin, who was covered head to toe in brown splotches. “Aren’t you supposed to be painting scenery and not yourself?” he said, backing away just slightly.

Justin laughed, and Brian noted how _happy_ he seemed. “Lindsay and I got into a little bit of a paint fight.”

Brian arched a brow and Justin laughed again. He gestured at the large sheet of plywood propped against the wall. “So what do you think?”

Brian took in the painted manger, the thatch roof, the faces of animals peeking out from around the pilings that Justin had made to look just like real wood. “It looks good.”

“We’re going to glue hay to it to make the roof look more real, and we’re going to get those little pom-pom things for the sheep’s face, and … “ he trailed off, blushing slightly. “Well, you don’t care about all that.”

Justin picked at a dot of paint on his arm, and Brian sighed softly. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over one of the folding chairs set up near them. “And what?”

Justin looked up, incredulous. Brian nodded, making circles in the air with the back of his hand. Justin broke out in a grin and started to rattle on about the cradle they were constructing by propping Gus’s old bassinet up on coffee cans covered in brown paper and the camels with real reins that were going to have wheels so the “wise men” could wheel them along. Brian listened, getting drawn in by Justin’s enthusiasm, and he was so absorbed in Justin’s spirited description of the robes Deb was putting together from scraps of old jackets parents had donated that he didn’t object when Justin handed him a paintbrush, and soon he was filling in sky blue behind the manger to a conglomeration of kid’s voices singing “We Three Kings”.

“Well, well,” came a voice from behind him and he turned so fast he made a bright streak on Justin’s bare forearm. Lindsay was standing with her arms crossed, and unabashedly teasing smile on her face and brown dots that matched Justin’s on her cheeks.

Brian had been in a zone for the past minutes, painting away and chattering with Justin, straining to hear Gus’s voice in the chorus, and chuckling to himself at Emmett’s particular brand of discipline (“Okay sweetie, if you’re going to sing like that, people are going to laugh at you”) that it took him a moment to work up a proper scowl.

He brandished his paintbrush and slitted his eyes. “One word and you’ll be blue for days.”

Lindsay just laughed. “You don’t frighten me, Kinney.” Her eyes sparkled and she came forward to take the brush from him, turning it and painting a perfect stripe down the bridge of his nose. Then she pecked him on the cheek, taking his moment of stunned stillness as the opportunity to scurry away. “Keep up the good work guys.”

Justin was going into hysterics at Brian’s side and Brian flared his nostrils, attacking Justin’s cheek with a wet slap of his paintbrush. Justin’s retaliation was to press his hand to the wet paint and grab Brian’s ass.

Brian shouted, stepping sideways to escape him, and he kicked over the blue paint, sending a flood of it over his new Gucci shoes. Justin’s laughter died abruptly and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. Emmett stopped the children mid-sentence and gaped in Brian’s direction and Lindsay left the room altogether.

Brian held up his hands, his initial flare of anger fading away into something that he thought was amusement. Nothing was said, and everyone went about their business.

*****

By the night of the pageant Brian had ruined two pair of shoes and three pairs of pants. After the first night he’d stopped wearing nice things to the center, but he mourned the loss of his oldest pair of black track pants just as much as his Versace pinstripes.

But the scenery looked phenomenal if he did say so himself, even if his clouds were less fluffy-looking than Justin’s. He’d spent most of his time on Gus’s camel anyway, making sure it was the best camel on stage. Justin had looked it over when Brian was done, standing nose-to-cardboard while Brian tried not to chew his nails, feeling silly that he was nervous about a fake camel.

Justin hadn’t said anything when he turned to Brian, but the kiss he’d given him had curled Brian’s toes in his Pumas, and he’d had to turn away when Gus ran up to see his camel, proclaiming it the best camel on the planet and naming it “Brian” like his father.

Now Brian sat in a metal folding chair in the auditorium, rolling the program Justin had made in the circle of his fingers, his eyes riveted to the stage where Melanie and Ben were talking about upcoming events at the center.

Justin put a soothing hand on Brian’s knee, leaning sideways to whisper in his ear. “Christ, relax. You’d think Gus was about to debut on Broadway.”

“I am relaxed,” Brian hissed back, his jaw tight. Justin laughed softly and put his arm around Brian’s shoulders.

Melanie and Ben finished their speech and came off stage. Ben joined Michael at the back of the auditorium where Michael was running the video camera. Melanie took her seat in the front row with Lindsay, and they beamed at each other as the children filed out on stage. As soon as Gus appeared in his crimson robe, there were murmurs and Deb waved frantically at Brian’s side, Carl trying to hold her hands down. Justin laughed and tightened his arm around Brian’s shoulders, and Brian found himself grinning like an idiot, watching his son sway with the other children through a stilted rendition of “O Holy Night”, Darren directing from the front of the stage.

The pageant was almost perfect, aside from baby Jesus having a sneezing fit when he got hay up his nose trying to climb out of the cradle and Mary going through the whole second act with her robes tucked into the back of her tights. 

When the kids took their bows at the end of the show Justin was whistling with two fingers in his mouth, shattering the ear drums of all that sat near them, his program held so tight in his other hand that it was crinkling up. Brian left his on his seat so he could clap, and he found himself applauding so hard his palms got red and sore and his arms began to ache. He withheld the shout that threatened to fly out, deciding that that kind of ridiculous display could be left to Lindsay, who was blotting tears in the front row, or even to Debbie, the volume of her screeching rivaling Justin’s shrill whistles.

“I have to help get the kids get changed,” Justin said when the cheering died down. Brian nodded, taking his coat.

“I’ll be back by Emmett.” Brian made his way down the row of chairs to the aisle left in the middle, weaving through clumps of people gushing over the children’s performance. Emmett and Darren were behind two long wooden tables covered in trays of Christmas cookies and chocolate covered cherries, pouring cups of juice and eggnog, circling around each other from the cashbox and back.

Brian was almost to the tables when someone touched his elbow. He turned and found Dusty, one of Lindsay and Melanie’s friends, holding the hand of a boy of about two. “Brian,” she said in her deep, throaty voice. “Gus was adorable tonight.”

“He made a pretty good wise man,” Brian said, swallowing down as much sentiment as he could. Wouldn’t do to start up a gushing session, especially with a dyke.

“He was the best wise man up there,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You must be very proud.”

Brian nodded, smiling over Dusty’s shoulder as Justin approached. 

Dusty turned her head to follow Brian’s line of sight and watched Justin sidle up to Brian’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Hi,” Justin said, smiling at Dusty. “Dusty, right?”

“Right, and you’re Justin. Brian’s … “ she trailed off. “Lindsay’s friend.”

“Brian’s boyfriend.” Justin didn’t even flinch when Brian pinched his arm. “Good to see you. Your little girl was great tonight.”

Dusty laughed and Brian felt a little bad that he hadn’t noticed Dusty’s daughter on the stage. “Thanks. I was just saying that Brian must be very proud of Gus. He did great tonight.”

“He really did.” Justin grinned up at Brian, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, I’m off. I’ve got to get this one home to bed.” She jiggled the hand that held the toddler’s and waved the other. 

“Good to see you,” Justin called after her. 

Brian rolled his eyes. “So polite.”

Justin just laughed. “Let’s get some eggnog.”

*****

They stayed to help clean up long after all the other families had left. Justin and Lindsay dragged scenery to a storage closet, draping cloths over the pieces to keep them from getting too dusty. Emmett waved Darren off with Debbie to fold costumes and pack them in a cardboard box. “Brian can help me carry dishes to the kitchen,” Emmett declared, widening his eyes in Brian’s direction.

Brian didn’t protest, but he heaved a sigh before taking an armful of trays from Emmett and starting off in the direction of the kitchen.

After the chairs were folded and set up in their rolling stands, and all of the dishes had been washed, everyone bundled up and headed out to the parking lot.

Deb made her rounds, kissing everyone and telling them when to be at her house Christmas Eve. Emmett stacked trays and bowls in the trunk of Ted’s car and waved a mitten at them as he angled into the passenger seat. Gus hugged and kissed Brian and Justin, yawning hugely before flashing a smile, calling out good-bye even as Lindsay was buckling him into the backseat of the car.

Somehow Brian and Justin ended up being the last ones to leave the parking lot, Brian idling the car a little, letting it warm up.

“That was fun,” Justin said, leaning his head back against the seat, twisting it to watch Brian ducking his chin into the folds of his scarf. “Even you had fun, I could tell.”

“I wouldn’t use those exact words,” Brian said, but when he thought about it, he had enjoyed his evening. He’d smiled to himself watching Gus taking his careful steps across the stage so as to not trip on the hem of his robe, pulling Brian the camel slowly behind him, enunciating each word precisely as Lindsay had taught him. He’d found himself laughing at Emmett and Darren’s easy banter as he dried the things they washed in the small sink in the center’s kitchen. Even making small talk with the other parent’s had seemed less tedious that evening, and he couldn’t help grinning like a fool any time anyone complimented Gus’s performance.

And one parent had said something about how Gus’s camel was more handsome than the others and Brian’s chest had swelled with ridiculous pride.

“Ah-ha!” Justin crowed, poking Brian in the arm. “You did have fun.”

Brian wrinkled his nose and threw the car into drive. “I got sucked into the spirit, I suppose.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Justin teased. Brian cocked an eyebrow in his direction before dropping his gaze to his crotch. Justin hummed and reached over to cup Brian’s already growing erection with one gloved hand. “Maybe not so soft,” he said, moving his fingers just slightly. 

Brian’s eyes slipped shut and he snaked his arm under Justin’s to put the car back into park. Justin took his hand back just long enough to get his glove off, holding his palm up to the heater before unzipping the fly on Brian’s pants and slipping his fingers into the waistband of his briefs.

Brian let his head fall back as Justin bent forward to take Brian’s now fully hard dick into his mouth. Spikes of heat shot up from his groin and all the way down to his toes and he felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. He fisted his fingers in Justin’s hair, not pushing or pulling, just needing something to hang onto while Justin tongued his slit, his warm palm now cupping Brian’s balls.

Justin bobbed a little, Brian’s cock bumping against the back of his throat before he pulled up and off, sucking gently at the head. “It’s good to be home,” he laughed, twisting to look up at Brian from under his lashes.

Brian’s chuckle was cut short by a gasp as Justin deep-throated him again, and he came hard, his breath fogging up the windows that had just defrosted, his eyes squeezed shut.

He kept them shut while Justin zipped him back up. When he opened them Justin’s face was close to his, and he was smiling smugly. Brian pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hey,” Justin said when he’d settled back into his seat, buckling his seat belt. “It’s snowing.”

“What did you say about being home?” Brian intoned, squinting through the frosty windshield at the flakes swirling in the dim light from the poles in the parking lot.

“I said it’s good to be home,” Justin repeated, pulling his glove back on. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to be back in California right now?” Brian asked, putting the car into drive and pulling out onto the street. Justin’s hand was warm on his thigh.

“I’m sure. Christmas wouldn’t be the same without snow.”

“And your family and friends,” Brian said, sounding less flip than he’d tried to be.

“That too, of course.” He smirked when Brian glanced sideways at him. “It’s like the song says, there’s no place like home for the holidays.”

“Oh Christ,” Brian groaned while Justin laughed. “You are such a lesbian.”

Justin kept laughing and squeezed Brian’s knee. Brian navigated a turn before letting a hand slip from the steering wheel to cover Justin’s.


End file.
